Poem
by H. Matsui
Summary: Gordo writes a poem for Lizzie. But, he doesn't want her to see it. What will happen? LG
1. Default Chapter

I'm no poet.  
  
I'm a filmmaker! I'm a scientist! I'm a logician! I'm a mathematician!  
  
But, but, I am not, not at all, not even in the least bit, a poet!  
  
But, sighed Gordo, even if I don't have the abilities of a real poet, that doesn't mean I can't give it try.  
  
So there! Go away, inner critic, let me be. Begone! Shoo! Scram! Just leave, and let me write my poem, my poem for Lizzie. Okay?  
  
As he struggled with his inner critic, he leaned back in his desk chair, let out a laugh, then began pondering about his day, the unbelievably amazing day he just had.  
  
It had been an absolutely wonderful, beautiful, rapturous, glorious, stupendous, magnificent day, a day worthy of many superlative adjectives, because he had just spent the entire day with his favorite person in the whole wide world, the love of his life and his best friend, Lizzie McGuire.  
  
They had spent a brilliant fall day walking about in Cambridge, enjoying the autumn sun, breathing in the crisp October air, taking in the sparkling colors of the glorious autumn leaves, and, most importantly, they had spent a timeless day thoroughly enjoying each other's company.  
  
And that day was inspiring Gordo to write poetry, despite his self- proclaimed handicap and his self-proclaimed innate inability to write anything that could come close to resembling a poem.  
  
So what? I don't care, I'm inspired to write, to express my feelings, to give release to my soul's desires, so I'm gonna write this poem, and nothing can stop me!  
  
After he had spent a considerable amount of time on his poem, he finally finished. He took a deep breath, then he stared intently at what he had just written. Okay, before I give this to Lizzie, let me see if what I've written is comprehensible.  
  
*****************************************  
  
A Poem For Lizzie  
  
All I want,  
  
All I want,  
  
is you.  
  
All I want is you, Lizzie McGuire.  
  
You make my heart sing, You make my heart smile,  
  
You make my heart soar,  
  
You take my breath away.  
  
You are the light of my life, You are the heart of my soul.  
  
You give me strength, You give me hope,  
  
You give me love, You give me joy,  
  
You give me life.  
  
I want you, I adore you, I need you,  
  
I long for you,  
  
I love you.  
  
In the darkness of the night,  
  
You give me hope,  
  
You help me carry on.  
  
You are the dream of my life,  
  
And knowing you are besides me, Knowing you are there for me,  
  
You give me strength.  
  
I love you, Lizzie.  
  
And I give my heart to you.  
  
My heart is yours,  
  
My heart is yours, to keep, to hold, to cherish,  
  
to love.  
  
I love you, Lizzie McGuire.  
  
I love you, from the bottom of my heart,  
  
from the bottom of my soul,  
  
You are my shining light,  
  
You are my life.  
  
I am yours,  
  
forever.  
  
My love, Gordo.  
  
***********************  
  
Gordo read his poem, leaned back in his chair again, and thought, Ummmm . . . I don't know, I don't know, I have no clue if this is any good or not. *Sigh*. See Gordo, you're not a poet, you should stick to making movies, just movies.  
  
Ah well, at least writing the damn thing help to pass the time away before Lizzie comes by, thought Gordo.  
  
Just as he finished his thought, he heard a voice call out to him. "Hey, Gordo!"  
  
He whirled around to see Lizzie standing in front of his open dorm room.  
  
It's Lizzie! Oh geez, I can't have her see what I've written!  
  
In a state of utter panic, he took the piece of paper that held his poem and stuffed it down his shirt.  
  
"Gordo?? What are you doing?" shouted Lizzie, deeply puzzled by Gordo's odd behavior. What in the world is he doing with that piece of paper, she wondered?  
  
"Uh, uh, hey, Lizzie! What's up?" exclaimed a nervous Gordo.  
  
"Nothing! But, something's up with you, because you're trying to hide something in your shirt! What ya got there, Gooo-rddoooo?" cooed a sly, playful Lizzie. "Something you're trying to keep from me, hmmmm?"  
  
"No!" shouted Gordo. "Nothing! I'm not hiding anything from you! Really! Truly! And hey, how about those Oakland Athletics, they sure are playing well considering they're a bunch of banjo hitters and journeymen pitchers. Right? Right?"  
  
Oh please Lizzie, please just let it go, don't keep asking me about my poem, please don't, I can't show this to you, not now, not yet, not ever!!  
  
Lizzie took careful notice of Gordo's odd, anxious expression, and thought, he *is* trying to hide something from me, and I *need* to know what this is all about . . . . 


	2. Chapter Two

Author's Note: Here's chapter two, sorry for the late update! This story is going to be "fic-let," and so there will probably just be one or two more chapters.  
  
Thanks for your reviews, and to answer your question Em, yes, I did write that little poem myself! I'm glad you all liked it, because I personally think writing poetry is really scary because poetry in many ways is way more personal and revealing than a story. I usually don't write poetry at all, but one night, I was feeling inspired for whatever reason, and so I wrote the poem, then modified the poem to "Lizzie McGuire," then created this story around that poem.  
  
Anyway, please read and review! hm  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Lizzie took careful notice of Gordo's odd, anxious expression, and thought, he *is* trying to hide something from me, and I *need* to know what this is all about . . . .  
  
"Gordo, you are absolutely terrible at telling lies. I know you're keeping something from me, so you might as well just 'fess it up right now," Lizzie said, with her arms crossed and in a mock-stern voice.  
  
"No, honestly, it's nothing, I -uh-have an itch! Yeah! That's it! My stomach was itching really badly and I'm using this, ah, blank piece of paper to scratch it! Ahhhhh, that feels so good!" He replied, as he "scratched" his itch with the crinkled piece of paper.  
  
Ow, ow, ow, ow . . . . that hurts . . . .  
  
Upon hearing Gordo's extremely weak answer, Lizzie rolled her eyes and chuckled at the ridiculous sight of her friend moving around a piece of paper underneath his shirt.  
  
Okay, he's not gonna give it up so easily, so I have to be more subtle about this, she thought.  
  
"Okay, you win, Gordo. Hey, I'm a little thirsty, I'm gonna go out into the hallway and get a drink of water from the fountain, I'll be right back," she said as she headed out of his dorm room.  
  
"Great! I'll see you in a little bit!"  
  
As he watched her disappear out the door, he breathed a heavy sigh of relief, took the poem out of his shirt, walked over to his mattress, and hid the poem in between the mattress and the box spring.  
  
He then walked back over to his desk and waited for Lizzie to return. Okay, I'm safe, thank god.  
  
Lizzie came walking back in and said, "Okay, Gordo, you ready to go? I'm starving!"  
  
He smiled at her and replied, "Oh yeah, you know me, I'm always ready to eat! Let me just grab my coat and we'll take off."  
  
As he took a step towards his closet, he saw Lizzie stagger and brace herself against the wall. She didn't look very good.  
  
"Hey, Lizzie, you okay?" He asked.  
  
"Ohmigosh, all of sudden I feel really faint and woozy. I think I'm feeling nauseous."  
  
He rushed to her, touched her shoulder, and asked, "Hey, do you need to lie down or something? Do you want me to call a doctor?"  
  
"No, I'm fine, really, I get like this sometimes when I haven't eaten in awhile. What would really help me is if I had some ginger ale, you know, to soothe my stomach."  
  
"Okay, hold on, there's a vending machine on the fifth floor, I'll get a ginger ale for you, I'll be back in a flash," he said as he briskly walked out the door.  
  
As soon as he was gone, she wiped away her false sickness, smiled mischievously, and proudly thought to herself, Ha! The I'm-feeling-sick- could-you-get-me-a-ginger ale-trick works every time! Gordo, for a really smart guy, he sure can be really gullible sometimes!  
  
She walked over to Gordo's bed, stuck her hand in between the mattress and box spring, and pulled out the piece of paper that was hidden there.  
  
When she told Gordo that she was going to get a drink of water, she lied, and instead of heading towards the water fountain, she stood just outside the dorm room, and used her compact mirror to see what Gordo would do with the paper underneath his shirt.  
  
As she held the paper in her hand, she thought to herself, maybe I should be a secret agent or something, I think that's my true calling! She giggled then began to read what was written on the paper.  
  
Alright, let's see why Mr. David Gordon didn't want me to read this, I hope it's not anything bad about me . . . .  
  
Oh! It's a poem! I didn't know Gordo wrote poetry!  
  
As soon as she read the title, her mouth dropped wide open and she felt her heart skip a beat.  
  
It's a poem . . . about me! He wrote a poem for me! She gasped.  
  
Why? Now, why in the world would he do that?  
  
Well, there's only one way to find out . . . . and you'd better hurry, McGuire, he's gonna be back any minute now.  
  
She began reading the poem softly to herself. "A Poem for Lizzie. All I want, all I want is you, Lizzie McGuire. You make my heart sing, you make my heart smile, you make my heart soar, you take my breath away . . . ."  
  
As she continued to read the poem, she felt herself deeply moved and touched, melting from the emotions expressed in the poem . . . . melting from the love she could feel jumping off of each and every line.  
  
Ohmigosh, ohmigosh, Gordo, do you feel this way . . . about me?? Ohmigosh, these are the sweetest things anyone's ever said to me . . . . .  
  
Even though she tried to stop herself, she couldn't help it as tears started to stream down her face.  
  
She quickly finished reading the poem, and then stood there, trying to let everything she had just read sink in.  
  
And with the poem still in her hands, one of her tear drops fell and gently splashed on the poem, slightly smudging her name in the poem's title.  
  
She closed her eyes, pulled the poem to her heart, gazed upwards, smiled and allowed her joyfully confused emotions to float up and flow freely.  
  
Lost in her thoughts and feelings, she suddenly realized, Oh! Gordo should be coming back anytime now! I should put the poem back where I found it . . . . but I don't want to! I love it, I want to keep it!  
  
What should I do?  
  
With that thought, she could hear footsteps just right outside the dorm room. Instinctively, she quickly folded up the poem and stuffed it into her purse.  
  
"Okay, sorry it took me awhile, Lizzie, but the machine was being tempermental and not accepting my change right away," said Gordo as he walked into the room and handed a can of ginger ale to Lizzie. "It took a good, swift, kick to the machine's posterior before it finally take my quarters."  
  
'Th-thanks Gordo," she replied. "But, I'm okay now, I don't feel sick anymore."  
  
"Great! I'm glad you're feeling better," he said, as he looked upon his friend with great curiosity. She looked like as she had just been crying, but not in a sad way, for she was returning his look with a broad smile and with what looked like a flirtatious gleem in her eyes. If he had to put a finger on it, he could swear that she was almost *glowing.*  
  
"Uh, Lizzie, you -you sure you're okay?"  
  
"Oh, Gordo! I'm more than okay, I feel really and absolutely wonderful right now!"  
  
Oh-kay, he thought, that's great, but there's something a little bit odd with the way she is right now, but I can't quite figure what's going on with her . . . .  
  
"Awesome, McGuire, uh, me, too! I feel wondeful too, yeah. Anyway, are you ready to go get some food?"  
  
Still smiling, she slowly sauntered towards him and stood only a few inches from his face. She gazed at his eyes and carefully studied his features. She was now looking at him in an entirely different way, she was now looking at him as the man who, judging from the words in his poem, was deeply in love with her.  
  
She whispered softly, "Mm-hhmm, yes, I'm ready to go out with you, Gordo."  
  
His heart melted upon hearing her soft, sensuous voice. There was something very different in the way she was speaking to him, and whatever it was, it was having some serious effects on his emotions and feelings. And being so close to her, he was having an incredibly difficult time trying to prevent himself from reaching out and grabbing Lizzie's body and kissing her ruby-red lips with all of his heart.  
  
"Uhhhh . .. . me, too?"  
  
His brain was complete puddy, he could not think straight as he was overwhelmed by his senses.  
  
She laughed inside, because she could tell the effect she was having on him. This moment was positively wonderful . . . she was still in utter shock and confusion, still not sure about how she felt about Gordo, still not quite sure if he truly meant everything he said in his poem, but, in this moment, all she could think about were all the wonderful possibilities and implications, and she wanted nothing more tonight than to explore and find out the truth of her feelings for him and the truth of his feelings for her.  
  
"Well, then, Mr. Gordon, shall we?" She softly kissed him on the cheeks, took his right hand, and began leading an extremely dazed, bewildered but a very blissful Gordo out of his dorm room and into the beautiful, crisp autumn night in Cambridge . . . . 


	3. Chapter Three Revelations

Poem - Chapter Three. Please read and review! HM  
  
***********************************************************  
  
The pair marched to the front door, and as soon as they walked out, they were greeted by a blast of fresh, crisp, winter-like air.  
  
"Mmmm, it feels so good to be outside!" Said Lizzie.  
  
"Yeah, it does," he replied. Especially when I'm with you, he whispered to himself.  
  
As they began walking towards the restaurant, she gazed up at the dark, but tranquil night sky. "Doesn't it feel like its about snow?"  
  
As soon as she said those words, soft, fluffy flakes of snow started to leisurely make their way down from the sky.  
  
"Oh, Gordo, it's snowing! It's snowing!"  
  
He looked up to see the sky suddenly give birth to a swarm of precocious, newborn snowflakes eager to make their way down to the ground, eager to turn the world into a comforting blanket of white serenity.  
  
"It's so beautiful, ohmigosh, it's so amazing!" She shouted as she left Gordo, and ran into the little park to the right of them. She went straight to the center of the quietly lit park, stood right in the middle of the field, and looked up to the sky and smiled broadly at the early autumn snowfall. She absolutely adored snow, especially when the ground and trees and buildings would be topped off with layers of fresh, puffy, and tender white snow, turning the city into a sparkling winter wonderland.  
  
He watched as Lizzie twirled herself around and tried to catch snowflakes with her tongue.  
  
This is why I love you, Lizzie, because you take joy in the simple beauty and wonder of life. You bring me joy, you make me remember everything that is good in my life . . . .  
  
"C'mon, Gordo, don't just stand there, come and try to catch some snowflakes with me!" She beckoned to him.  
  
He smiled and shouted, "Alright, McGuire, I'll be right there!" He jogged over to her and was greeted with a beautiful, seductive grin.  
  
"About time, Mr. Gordon! I'm way ahead of you, you got some catching up to do!" She said, and then she quickly turned her attention back to the night sky, stuck out her tongue and concentrated on her task of catching as many little snowflakes as possible.  
  
"Oooh, did you see that, I caught that really big one!"  
  
"Congratulations, Ms. McGuire, you should definitely consider trying out for the snowflake catching Olympics next year!"  
  
"Gordo! Are you making fun of me?"  
  
"Who, mwah? Tease you, McGuire? Now, why in the world would I ever do that?" He replied with a sly, sarcastic tone. He gave her a wink then started to laugh. "Yeah, yeah, I confess, I was making fun of you, so sorry!"  
  
"Grrr, you're not sorry in the least bit, you're laughing at me! If there was enough snow on the ground, I'd throw a huge ol' snowball at ya! Consider yourself lucky there!" She teasingly stuck her tongue at him and then continued onto the important business of catching snowflakes.  
  
As he continued to watch her, he could only think to himself about how much he adored her and how much he wanted to grab her, take her into his arms, kiss her, and tell her just how much loved her and just how deliriously happy it was for him to just be with her, how he loved every single moment he spent with her, how he would give his heart to her if she asked.  
  
Maybe I should give her my poem, he thought, if I can't muster up the courage to say how I feel about her, maybe I should just let my poem express my feelings for me . . . .  
  
Do I want to risk it? Do I want to risk the possible rejection and having my dreams shattered beyond recognition? Do I want to take that chance?  
  
I do, he whispered, but, not yet, I'm not ready quite yet . . . .  
  
"Hey, Gordo, whatya thinkin' about? You look deep in thought!" She asked.  
  
"Oh, nothing at all. Just the usual stuff I think about," he replied casually.  
  
"You mean, you were thinking about Orson Welle's directing techniques, or about Steven Spielberg's editing style?" She giggled.  
  
"Ha, ha, very funny, McGuire, I should have you know, I think about other things besides filmmaking. Not much, but I do," he smiled and playfully punched her on her shoulder.  
  
She gasped in feigned shock. "You do??? Really? Ohmigosh, what? Tell me? You think about something other than filmmaking, whatever in the world could that be?"  
  
He tried to give her a grimaced, pained look, but he couldn't help smiling and gave up. "You're really on a roll tonight, McG. And just a few minutes ago you were feeling sick. Man, you seemed to have gotten better really soon!"  
  
The pair stood in the middle of the park. Lizzie cozied up to him so that she was only a few inches apart from him, staring straight into his eyes.  
  
"Yeah, " she whispered seductively, "Something, uh, helped me get better really quickly."  
  
He could feel her soft, warm breath on his face. Oh man, Lizzie don't do this to me, I don't think I can take it . . . . He could smell her sweet fragrance, he could see a sparkle in her beautiful, crystal clear hazel eyes, he could almost touch her soft, full, crimson lips, and he could feel himself start to shake inside as his emotions jumped all around inside of him, longing, clamoring for sweet release.  
  
Transfixed, bewitched, he gazed at her beautiful face and thought, it's as if I can almost see and feel your soul through your eyes . . . .  
  
"Gordo?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Guess what?"  
  
"Uhh, what?"  
  
"I can read minds, you know," she replied coyly.  
  
"Oh, you can, can you?"  
  
"Mmm-hmmm. In fact, I can figure out things that you carry deep inside of your heart."  
  
"O-oh? Really?" What is she getting at, he wondered?  
  
Whatever she's doing, she is driving me crazy, oh man, Lizzie, you are so beautiful, you are really playing with my heart, he thought, as he kept looking into her hypnotic eyes. I want you . . . .  
  
"Do you want me to tell you about you?"  
  
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then said with as much confidence he could muster, "Uhhh, sure?"  
  
"Okay, Madame McGuire will reveal to you your deepest desires and secrets. First, though, Madame McGuire needs to hold both of your hands. Take off your gloves, please," she replied in her fortune telling voice.  
  
He slowly stripped off his gloves and let Lizzie take his hands into hers.  
  
The sweet, tender warmth of her delicate, sensual touch sent blissful shockwaves throughout his entire body. Oh, my, god, Lizzie, you are such sweet, sweet, torture . . . . I don't want this moment to ever end . . . .  
  
She smiled as she could hardly not notice the visible effect she was having on his tender emotions. You're so sweet, Gordo, I so love being wit h you, like this, in the embrace of gentle, nurturing snow . . . .  
  
This is sooooo romantic . . . .  
  
"Okay, Gordo," she cooed, "now close your eyes, and concentrate your feelings on the things you love the most in your life, alright?"  
  
He nodded, and thought, that's easy to do when the love of my life is here, with me in the middle of this unbelievably beautiful and tender night.  
  
"Uh, yeah, I think I can do that, Lizzie, " he replied, with a slight nervous quiver in his voice.  
  
"Don't be nervous, Gordo," she reassured, "trust me, okay?"  
  
Her soothing, melodic voice instantly quieted his nerves, and he let himself relax into his body.  
  
"Good," she said. She firmly but gently pressed his hands, and softly stroked his palms with her thumbs. "Just relax, just let yourself be, and let yourself feel all the love in your heart."  
  
A few moments of silence passed by. The only thing he could hear was the quiet whisper of snowflakes nudging and bumping into him as they continued their trek to the ground.  
  
The snow had fallen rapidly, covering the park in a thin layer of white, encircling Lizzie and Gordo as they stood in a little round patch of green. A street lamp right next to them was showering and bathing them in a soft yellow light.  
  
Another few moments passed. Then Lizzie leaned over and whispered into his ear, "I know that you have the biggest heart in the world, Mr. David Zephyr Gordon. You are a sweet, kind, gentle, amazing soul."  
  
He felt himself becoming flushed. All he could do was nod his head as her soft breath tickled his ear.  
  
She continued. "I also know that you have such enormous creative gifts. Not only are you a brilliant filmmaker, but . . . . you also have a poet's heart."  
  
His heart froze. Wha-what did she just say?  
  
A million thoughts bombarded his mind, and then he came to realize the truth. She knows! She knows about the poem I wrote her! Oh geez, oh geez . . . . Oh man, this is so embarrassing . . .  
  
She knows!!  
  
She could feel him tensing up. In response, she gave his hands another reassuring tug. "Gordo," she whispered, "You can open your eyes now."  
  
He gingerly opened his left eye first, then slowly let his right eye catch up. He saw Lizzie, just a few inches from him, looking at him, with a big grin on her face, her eyes openly betraying feelings of immense affection and desire. He had never seen her look at him this way before, and he could feel something special and amazing stirring deep in his soul . . . what he was feeling was the pure joy of feeling and being * loved. *  
  
She then slowly wrapped her arms around him, brought herself even closer so that the only thing separating them was a space about the size of a snowflake.  
  
"Gordo, there's one last thing I want to tell you, but, I'm not totally sure about this. So, you have to tell me if I'm right."  
  
"Okay," he whispered, not sure what was going on, but enjoying every single moment of the embrace he was sharing with her.  
  
"Well, I feel so much love in your heart, Gordo, so much longing for . . . someone."  
  
His heart froze once more. "Uhhh, you do?" He asked nervously.  
  
"Yeah, I do. But, I'm not totally sure you feel this way, you know, about this person. So, I want you to tell me, am I right? Are you . . . . are you in love, Gordo?"  
  
He felt his heart rising up to his throat. He started to feel claustrophobic, as if his whole world was being turned upside down. His knees began to tremble as if he was experiencing an earthquake.  
  
He gulped, looked up towards the sky, then began to answer Lizzie's question . . . . 


End file.
